How the Legend was Born
by Graystripe64
Summary: The details to King Fergus' most legendary battle! His famous scuffle with Mo'rdu and how exactly he lost his leg! How will the queen and little princess react? How will Fergus adjust? Is family love truly the key to ending his trauma? several chapters
1. Chapter 1

**Well, this is my first "Brave" fanfic! (YAY!) So, as it's my first, I decided to start by remaining close to the film material. As in, building off of what we've already seen/seen most of. This gives me a chance to focus on young Merida (adorbs beyond all reason), a bit of their Mummy/Daughter relationship (because it's amazing), Elinor/Fergus fluff, and even some Daddy/Daughter time between Fergus and Merida! 3 Just some really good, heart-felt family time!**

**I'm excited and proud to produce my first chapter! More to follow soon! :D**

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The hooves to Queen Elinor's white steed were pounding heavily atop the grassy Highland grounds. Each thundering strike sent a crippling shudder up through the woman's gripping legs and body. Her breath came out in shallow pants as she continued to urge her horse further. A single bead of sweat trailed down the side of her temple, causing a tendril of her long, brown hair to crinkle in a gentle wave.

Even her mind was racing, fighting to keep at bay the frightening memory of Mor'du and his surprise ambush on them, moments ago and pushing aside gory images of the result of what his ambuscade could have done to her husband and his men. She repeated a silent prayer to the Heavens as she rode, _"Còrd ceadaich e fhèin bi snasail!"*_

And through this all, Elinor could even sense her young daughter growing stiffly scared in her embracing grasp. The mother quickly glanced down at the wee redhead and saw her looking back over their path from her shoulder while gripping the cloth to the violet gown. Elinor wanted nothing more at the moment than to calm Merida – tell her that she was alright and the nightmare was over. Her father would surely slay that awful beast and return home with it slung over his horse and himself hardly scathed. But as they both neared Castle DunBroch, the queen had to strive to keep the tears welling in her brown eyes from completely falling away.

Usually so calm and collected, Elinor was now in utter turmoil. She could not honestly admit that she was certain Fergus was safe; that he and his men weren't in terrible danger, being skilled fighters and all. Remembering the soulless look that she caught in Mor'du's good eye shot a chill down her spine, making her (regrettably) doubt herself in the confidence she once had in the king's strength. She wrapped her arm tighter around the small princess and buried her nose briefly into her fiery locks, feeling her warmth and knowing that, at least, _she_ was safe.

"_Còrd, Dia! Glèidh a' rìgh!"*_

Another leaping bound and the freckled Clydesdale had reached the bridge to Castle DunBroch. They crossed it to its halfway point when Elinor thought she heard the faint call of a man a ways back, not to mention a second set of horse hooves thudding behind her.

"Mummy, look!" cried Merida, pointing back beyond her mother's shoulder. The queen quickly cocked her head and caught sight of one of her subjects (she recognized from his tartan) catching up to her on his own horse. In fact, it was one of their men from their picnic!

"Hoy!" he called, waving his left arm in the air when he noticed his queen's gaze upon him. His brown steed nimbly jumped out from the entrance to the Highland forests and into the clearing before the overpass. "My Lady Queen!"

Elinor immediately pulled back on the reins and brought her horse to a halt, hooves skidding fiercely on the cobble-stoned bridge, "Steady there, Enya!"

The chestnut haired man also brought his horse to a stop beside the queen and princess. He was panting, his usually fair face was flushed, and he had a large, ragged tear in his moss colored undershirt. "My Lady Queen," he repeated, catching his breath. "Thank the Heavens I caught up to you!"

"Lennox!" Elinor addressed him hurriedly, "What news do you bring? The king and the others?"

"Mor'du has fled, your Majesty," Lennox frantically wheezed. "Scarred and injured, through. The king saw to that. Many of our men are wounded – nothing serious, thank God – but the king!"

Elinor gasped, her eyes growing wider and clutching tighter her wee daughter.

"King Fergus has been _severely_ crippled, m'Lady! The beast, Mor'du – he swallowed his leg! Clean off at the knee!"

"Daddy!" Merida gasped, horrified. Tears instantly swelled in her aqua eyes and she pressed her face into her mother's shoulder, whimpering. The queen immediately held her with both arms, one hand running through her tangled hair and whispered, "There, there, sweetheart…"

Elinor furrowed her eyebrows together, ultimately bringing her entire face into an anguished contort. There was nothing else she could confidently say to soothe her child.

Lennox, feeling overwhelmingly ashamed at making the princess cry, quickly added, "Keep the heid, now! I've been sent to alert the healers of the king's condition, and to send back as many men as possible to help schlep him back to the castle!" he paused, making sure his next statement was heard by the princess, "If we hurry, our king will be easily saved!"

Merida sniffled as she unshielded her face from her mother's shoulder and glanced wide-eyed at the bedraggled warrior.

For the queen as well, her gaze landed back onto Lennox with worry and despair in her amber eyes. "He needs me," she uttered firmly. She briefly looked down at Merida, making contact with her glistening, teary blue eyes, before turning back to her subject. "Lennox, the king needs me by his side. I will go to him. Do as you were told and fetch the healers and men, but take the princess back to the castle with you on your way."

"Of course, your Majesty."

"What? B-But, Mummy! I want to be with Daddy too!" whined the little girl and further gripping her mother's dress. "I-I'm brave! That manky ol' bear doesn't scare _me!_"

The queen, however, could certainly feel the small child shaking in her arms. She gripped her a little tighter for comfort and shook her head, "No arguments, Merida. I need you to stay where I _know_ you'll be kept safe. And _I _will bring your father back."

Merida hesitated but soon succumbed, wiping her eyes clean with the back of her hand. "You promise?"

"I _promise_," Elinor confirmed with a reassuring smile. She pressed her forehead to Merida's and stared into her gaze yet again. "And _you_ must promise _me_ that you will still be a strong and brave lassie _at home_, while I'm gone. Alright?"

The redhead nodded seriously, "I will."

Elinor smiled, "That's my guid bairn." She then cupped her face and kissed her gently on her forehead. The queen then picked up the wee princess and handed her over to Lennox, whom he sat securely in front of him, on his steed.

"Put Maudie in charge of her until I return."

Lennox dipped his head respectfully. "Aye, I shall. Can you make it back well enough on your own, your Highness?"

"Certainly! Now be off; make haste!" the queen commanded with a wave of her hand. She regained the reins to her Clydesdale and with an assertive shout, turned to gallop back the way she had come, to the picnic site. She caught sight of Merida waving anxiously to her mother as she and Lennox rode off to the castle, but only managed to smile in return.

Enya was a fast and sturdy mare with a well-trained sense of direction, and so Elinor trusted her to get them back to the campsite in good time. This gave her a free moment to reflect on all that she had been informed of. Fergus! Oh, Fergus! Her dear, beloved husband! How could something so terrible happen to a man always bursting with boisterous confidence? Elinor had witnessed him battle against scores of oversea invaders with no other weapon than his unfailing sword. But in an ambush, with more than one arm to his aid, he had been dealt such an awful misfortune at the paws of that _wicked_ demon bear!

His leg – his entire leg – completely gone? The thought of her ginger-haired king writhing on the grassy clearing, blood pouring out from his stump of a leg, and calling out her name, was almost too much for her to bear. A day that had originally been so peaceful, so joyous – their daughter's birthday – had turned dreadfully dark and horrifying within an instant.

The queen prayed Lennox returned at god's speed with the men and healers. As she did, a single tear ran down the side of her cheek and didn't even bother wiping it away.

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**Scottish Gaelic to English translation: **

**_"Còrd ceadaich e fhèin bi snasail!" = "Please, let him be alright!"_**

**_"__Còrd, Dia! Glèidh a' rìgh!" = "Please, Lord! Protect the king!"_**

**___Anyway, that's all for now! This was originally going to be a oneshot, but soon decided that it would have been WAY too long. I;m not even sure I could keep your attention for that long! D: Stay tuned for more! 3_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 everyone! This is the flashback to the actual battle with Mor'du. Next chapter deals with the family as a whole. Enjoy! :D**

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_Slash! Crack!_

With one powerful swipe of his massive paws, Mor'du had completely destroyed his spear. Splinters of wood cascaded downwards onto the man's broad, bear-hide covered shoulders. But King Fergus was hardly fazed. He heard his men coming to his sides with their own weapons in hand, caterwauling battle cries and shouts that belonged only to brave Highland men.

He immediately dropped his now useless spear and dove his beefy hand to the scabbard around his left hip. With an impressive _"shing!"_ and a flash of silver light, his trusty sword was withdrawn and handled firmly in his sturdy fist.

Fergus let out a bellowing roar, one that almost matched Mor'du's as the beast reared back on his hind legs, giving himself an intimidating height of at least seventeen feet. His claws were sharpened and prepared to strike, fangs dripping with stinking, yellowish saliva. His blind eye rolled back into his scarred head, while the good one – black and soulless – stared threateningly down onto Fergus and realized that _he_ was the leader of these 'puny' warriors.

"Come on, you!" the red-haired king challenged, his pupils narrowing in anxious vexation.

His dare was immediately met when the dark-furred beast lunged forward and snapped his monstrous jaws into his face, an echo of another roar escaping his throat. But Fergus was light on his feet for a man of his girth, and briskly avoided the bear's attack. The king's men started jabbing Mor'du from all sides, distracting him as best they could so Fergus could deal the fatal blows. He swung his sword fiercely at the demonic creature, deeply slicing his tough skin through tattered fur with every swipe. Mor'du had defenses of his own, however, and promptly hurled his deadly paws at the man; occasionally managing to clout a couple of irksome soldiers on his sides as well.

Fergus was growing impatient with his attacks that only _slowly_ weakened the bear. Sweat formed on his bushy brows and on the back of his thick neck. He snarled at the scarred monster as he readied himself into a defensive stance.

"Is that all you got?" he spat. "Come on, face me, ya bloody basturt!"

Bleeding heavily from the fresh gashes the king had left on him, Mor'du was fuming with hot, white fury. It smoldered blatantly in his chilling eye. Once again, he towered over his main opponent and started salivating profusely. Fergus only raised his red-stained blade above his head, knowing in advance, the bear's attack. Then, with another thundering roar that shook the earth, Mor'du lunged down and forward onto the king. It was an intimidating spectacle for any warrior. But Fergus was prepared.

This was the end of it. This was the day he reminded himself, his family, and his kingdom _why_ he was called the Bear King! The day he proved to his beloved wife and daughter that there wasn't a _single_ beast in all of Scotland that he couldn't slay!

With all the immense force built up in his muscular arms, Fergus swung his sword over his head and aimed it directly for the crown of the demon bear's. He squinted his blue eyes shut with the effort, preparing for a massive backlash of energy the moment the blow was dealt. But the instant contact was made; he felt the hilt of his sword lessen in weight. Control over the weapon was somehow lost. He opened his eyes and was suddenly met with the realization that his unfailing blade had been shattered into thick, razor-sharp fragments! Fractured splinters of silver showered everywhere! It was completely demolished!

And as time seemed to stand still, Fergus noticed that his blow had hardly an effect on the monster! What he had intended to create was an outright cracked skull and immediate death, but only resulted in a flesh wound with a few trickles of blood running down the temples to Mor'du's head!

But before that image was even able to _register_ in the ginger-haired king's mind, he was met with an instantaneous surge of incomprehensible, utterly crippling pain. Serrated knives felt like they were being forcefully skewered into his left leg – going deeper and deeper and rendering his other limbs numb. He could sense the thick, unkempt fur of Mor'du's head brushing against his upper body – thrusting himself forward further to better clamp his massive jaws tighter and harder upon the leg. Fergus felt flesh tearing violently with more freshly spilt blood staining the grass a revolting scarlet. A sickening crack that ruptured below his knee told the king that bone was being snapped in two, eventually broken clean off! A howl of deafening proportions escaped the king's mouth. One of complete torment.

As the hot tears trailed from his aqua eyes, Fergus' ears rang with the sound of men shouting. His blurry vision caught sight of his fellow warriors jabbing and prodding the demon bear violently on his other side. This made the monster twist his bloody head in their direction, and with it, dragging the remaining tendrils of flesh and nerves that kept the king attached to his left leg, still dangling from his mouth. Fergus hollered with all his boisterous might, shaking the trees around him. As much as his mind fought it, he feared that any more agony would render him unconscious. A series of gory, fleshy twists and cracks, and the rest of the ginger-haired king was dropped back onto the ground, his leg now _completely_ detached from his body.

He lay on the earth, head rolled to the side to witness Mor'du stand upwards again, towards the remaining men with rivers of blood pouring out from his jaws and from the booted foot that lay lodged in it. Fergus then watched in horror as the deformed creature easily swallowed his stump of a leg in two easy gulps. And like that, it was gone. Eaten like nothing more than hardy steak gristle. All that remained that he could feel was his left knee twitching violently in spastic panic, nerves still trying to command the now nonexistent limb.

At this point, King Fergus fluttered in and out of consciousness, and was therefore blind as to how it was Mor'du was chased away, how he managed to flee. The next thing he remembered was his familiar soldiers surrounding him, shouting words he didn't have the energy to decipher. All he could hear was his pounding heartbeat and the blood welling in his ears. But again, he came out of dazed unconsciousness and could now suddenly hear one man yell to another one motioned by the makeshift stables, waving his hand about at him.

"You there, go back fetch as many men and healers you can rally! Hurry! Make haste!"

Another ordered, "Take down the tents – the king needs clean space until the help arrives!"

"You three, help me shift his Majesty over to it!"

Many pairs of strong hands gripped his bear-hide cloak while other figures merely surrounded him for support. But before the men could get better grasps on the king in order to properly move him, Fergus reached out a hand and gripped the shirt collar to one of the men, tugging him down to his level. Despite all the traumatic thoughts he had racing in his tactful mind, there was one that stood out to him stronger than the others. He spoke in a hoarse voice, straining, "My…My queen! Elinor…and-and Merida! Where…?"

The man responded presently, "Worry not, they have escaped, your Highness! Without a doubt, they are safe at the Castle and awaiting your return!"

Fergus was slowly loosing himself to unconsciousness yet again, his aqua eyes fluttering as he mumbled, "T-Tell…tell them…"

And with that, the king's eyes closed and his head fell back, his metal cap rolling off and onto the grass. His grip was still firm on the soldier's collar, but when the lad managed to wrench himself free, he instantly turned back to the rider prepared to alert the Castle of the king's position.

"Make sure to find and inform Queen Elinor and Princess Merida on your return to DunBroch! Off with you now!"

Lennox rode off as quickly as steed would take him as the remaining men went about their task to prepare their wounded king for the help's arrival.

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**10 points for leaving on the darkest note possible! D: Don't worry, we all know Fergus survives. Nothing can kill that man, especially when his family's at stake! ^^**

**Reviews are always welcomed. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright-y! Chapter 3 is up and running! Sorry for the wait. I had to revise this one quite a bit and get it going exactly where I wanted it to. I said last chapter that this one would deal with the family as a whole, and I wasn't lying, I fully intended it that way. But, again, I had to cut it down for being too long and make them 2 separate chapters. So this one deals with Elinor/Fergus, and the NEXT one deals with the whole family - particularly Merida/Fergus. So be prepared, it will be updated shortly! :D Read and enjoy!**

**(I also want to thank gabthebomb for recommending this fanfiction on her tumblr! Thanks so much girl, it really means a lot to me!) And everyone else who likes this little story, you all are fantastic people - I truly mean it! *hugs for you all***

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"_Fergus!"_

"_Fergus, it's me! I'm here…"_

The king's light blue eyes slowly fluttered open. Everything was a hazy blur for a moment before his vision finally came into focus. The light of the fading sunset glowed behind the figure of his wife. His queen. It gave her a heavenly aura.

"E…Elinor?" he managed.

Her hazel eyes widened and anxiously beamed down at him, "Oh, Fergus! There you are; that's it, stay with me, now!"

The king let out a sigh and a grunt at the same time. With his eyes still heavy, he pulled his lips into a boyish grin underneath his whiskered mustache. "Is…is this an angel I see afore* me?"

She chuckled lightly and reapplied a freshly damped rag on his forehead, dabbing it gently. "Flattery will not help you recover any faster, dear. Don't strain now; just relax…"

The king groaned deeply as he obeyed his queen. Instead, he merely let his sore pupils briefly scan his surroundings. He was laying down in what he recognized to be the familiar clearing; his wife was kneeling over him on his left side. It was their campsite. Shattered and fragmented weapons lay strewn about him – spears snapped in twos and threes, daggers and swords stabbed into the ground. The tables that once supported all their platters of food and drinks were now upturned and splintered in sections. Their tents, which had once proudly displayed the Clan DunBroch symbol, were now shredded, sliced fiercely by aggressive paws. Bear paws.

The grip Elinor had on one of his mighty fingers, squeezed tighter. For reassurance, he returned the gesture, grasping a light fist in her entire palm. He could now keep his gaze fully open and he stared up at her beautiful visage.

"Elinor…darlin'. What are you doin' here? I thought you had – I told you to flee!"

She sighed in relief and gave him a smile, "Aye, you did. But I came back. I couldn't leave you behind..."

The king smirked too, but soon twisted his head around an a slight panic, "Wha – Where's our Merida? Is she – "

"Hush, darling," the queen soothed as she placed a light hand on the side of his whiskered chin. "She's just fine. Not so much as a scratch on her. She's back at the castle; I made sure of that. She's probably giving Maudie a hard time and wanting to make sure her daddy's alright."

At this, both the king and queen froze, but Fergus more seriously. Unbearable tension lay thickly in the air. Elinor felt the serious sting of her last words plague her body, and she sunk her head low for a minute in turmoil and sympathy.

"Oh, Fergus, I…"

He, on the other hand, simply stared wide-eyed into the open sky with aqua eyes glistening. His mouth hung open and he lifted up his right arm and clenched his fingers. Before long, he balled his beefy hand into a fist, straining the muscles in his arm. His agape mouth closed and he bit his lower lip as his eyes squinted, all as if he were in terrible pain. And in a way, he was…

"Elinor…" he addressed her, in a tone of voice she never knew he was capable of. There was a slight crack in it. Tears welled, yet again, in her eyes. She knew what he was about to say. It brought back a rush of emotions towards her.

"The best healers in DunBroch are preparing a medicine for you and a horse-drawn cart is being fetched as we speak, dear!" Choking back a sob, Elinor slowly trailed her gaze down from her husband's face, along his abdomen, torso…and eventually, his left leg. His _missing_ left leg.

There lay the rest of it. The stump barely passed the hem of his kilt; wrapped crudely in another piece of discarded yellow tent linen. A deep, scarlet stain soiled the base of it. She winced painfully as she noticed how the remnants of his leg twitched ever so slightly, as if wondering where the rest of it had gone.

She could not hold back her tears any longer, and so they gently trailed down her cheeks as she turned to face her husband again. She had never seen the king look at her like this before. It made her heart pound harder; now dealing with emotions and experiences she was completely new to. Fergus was staring up at her, his heavy, bristly brows folding over his eyes and transforming his visage into a tortured squint. He clenched his teeth and his lips quivered.

"He…He _took_ mah leg."

"I…" she hesitated, her eyes still weeping for the fallen king, "I know, darling. I know…"

Moisture leaked from his own eyes as well, but soon evaporated before they even fell. He cussed through clenched teeth, "That hackit basturt!* Th-that loupin* – "

"Fergus!" the queen gasped, trying to keep her panic at bay as another tear ran down her face. She grew stunned as he overpowered her, albeit, light force upon him to keep him grounded, and slightly sat himself upwards.

"_You hear me, you manky cack?!*"_ Fergus bellowed into the open air with unmatched volume, venomous spit flying out of his mouth with each word roared. He shook a fist at the forest ahead of him in a cursing manner. _"You'll pay fer this!"_

"Dear, please y-you must relax!" pleaded Elinor once more, pressing a firm hand on her husband's shoulder. Fergus was riled up, however. His eyes were mad with lust for revenge. His teeth were bared and his mighty chest rose and fell with deep, ragged breaths. Elinor was growing afraid for her husband, her eyebrows knitting together in worry. And before she was even able to assess the appropriateness of the situation, she lunged herself onto her king, clasping her arms around his thick neck and burying her face into his unkempt, ginger hair.

Fergus' wild gaze immediately softened, his once narrow pupils now dilating from the shock of his queen's action. He felt the smoothness of the pale skinned cheek brush against his own. He relished in the silkiness of her long, beautiful brown hair - how it gently tickled him under his profound jaw. And above all, he was met with the shocking realization that she was crying. Her tears were dropping, with icy coldness, onto the back of his neck; the shaking of her shoulders as she gripped him tighter to herself. It was then that he understood…that he had frightened her. He had become as beastly as Mor'du in that short moment, and he could see what it had done to her!

"Oh, my Elinor! Elinor, lass! Forgive me!" The king instantly collected her sensual frame into his muscular arms. It was then that a few _actual_ tears of his own streamed their way down his face as well, collecting in the prickly jungle that was his beard. And they weren't tears of vengeance or hatred. No. They were tears of sadness, of loss, and regret.

"Shhh…darling. It's alright," the queen managed to soothe through her husband's tight embrace and her own sobs, "I don't blame you fer an instant…"

Then suddenly, Elinor noticed a train of old, wise women appear out of a remaining tent, each plump, short, and little. Their faces round with wrinkled skin, their buns of gray hair encased in a neat bonnet, and each with shining eyes that looked eager to do their work. Every one carried a different object in their grasp –a wooden bowl, a vile of colorful liquid, and a knitted handkerchief. The three crones settled themselves by the king's feet (foot) and carefully unbandaged his bloody stump. Elinor quickly averted her eyes when she caught the glimpse of horrifyingly scarlet stains and the view of ripped knee flesh under his kilt.

Instead, she turned her attention back to her tortured husband, still hugging him fiercely. "Oh, Fergus…when I heard what happened on my escape back to the castle, I…It felt as if I'd lost my breath of life!" She continued to sob into his shoulder, clutching his bear-hide cloak. "If anything, _I'm_ the one who should be apologizing to _you!_ It is because of _me_ and _my_ carelessness that caused this misfortune – I should _never_ have let Merida wander alone in that forest! _I_ am to blame!

Fergus felt hot rage burning in his throat – completely mortified that his wife would even _consider_ such a ludicrous idea! "Elinor – I won't hear another word of this, lass! You _know_ all o' that is a lie!" He squinted and grunted again as he felt a pair of cold hands spreading a poultice over his wounded stump of a leg. It sent violent shivers up his spine, but he was more concerned with the emotional wellbeing of his queen, whom he still held crying in his arms. "My love…" the king spoke in a more hoarse and quiet tone. "I would have willingly sacrificed _both_ my legs a _hundred_ times over…" he removed her head from his shoulder and forced her to glance into his teary, blue eyes. "…Just to make sure you and Merida were safe and sound for even _one _extra _minute_!"

Utter adoration sparkled in Elinor's gaze and a loving smile adorned her lips. "Fergus, my dear, you truly are the _bravest_, most _selfless_ man I've ever known."

The king grinned warmly as he reached up a beefy mitt up to her face and gently cupped the left side of it, letting his fingers comb through her rich, dark hair. "Who will live to see another day with his _beautiful_ queen and darling, wee princess."

Elinor chuckled as she lay her cheek into his palm, and even placed her own hand atop his, savoring his warm touch. She then wiped her tears away with the other.

"Guh!" Fergus suddenly groused with another wince, feeling the old healers go about picking and lancing the dead skin off the king's stump. Elinor held the back of his head and dabbed the still dampened rag back onto his brow. His expression eventually softened to that of a humorous one, a sympathetic grin forming under his mustache.

"Well, thank the spirit's it was only yer leg and not yer head," commented the female monarch with a tiny, amused smirk.

"Aw, wheesht!*" added the red-haired king with a wave of his hand and a humorous roll of his eyes. "The _spirit's_ had nothin' to do with it! It was sheer luck! I got me-self in trouble, and I got mah-self out – you know that!"

Elinor chortled again, removing the rag aside and staring wholly into her love's friendly, affable eyes, "Well, _whatever_ it was that saved your life, I'll be sure to thank it every day of my life."

Fergus smiled back, glad he was able to make his wife laugh again, like he always could. And before he knew it, they were leaning in closely and they both planted their lips together in a gentle kiss. The queen knew that these sort of open displays of affection where inappropriate during the daytime, and even more so in public, but she hardly cared at the moment. She was too deeply infatuated with her beloved king. Her husband. He was safe and in her care, and that was all she dared concern herself with.

Then quickly, she heard one wise women holler towards her, in a slightly timid voice as if not wanting to interrupt them. "Ahem. Aye, your Ladyship! The king has been well tended to."

One crone nodded satisfyingly as another was wrapping her handkerchief tightly around the stump, and to the queen's surprise, no blood stained its base. "The poultice my sisters and I applied will keep his wound clear of infection…for the time being. Have your servants apply another dose every half-day until the medicine has been used up. And rewrap his wound in fresh linen every time, as well." The speaking crone handed the female monarch a leather pouch, which she assumed was full of the medicine.

She looked towards them all, each standing before her with folded hands over their large bosoms. "Thank you all _very much_ for your services to the king, miss', eh?..."

"Hazel,"

"Helen,"

"and Hilda." The three of them spoke in turn to their respective names. The women each curtsied their respects to the royal pair and were prepared to leave with their tools in hand, when a nearby DunBroch lad stopped them. "Uh, surely you lasses would not leave without yer payment?" He reached a hand into his sporran and rummaged in it for any possible coins, but a corpulent hand merely stopped him.

"That will not be necessary, young lad. My sisters and I are humble maids of DunBroch and, of course, offer our skills to the king, free of charge."

Elinor was taken aback by their unexpected sincerity. She normally would have disregarded an assertion of no payment to any worthy clan mate, but she decided wisely not to sully the honor of the best healers in the kingdom. "As you wish," she finalized with a dip of her head. "You three are very kind. Thank you, again."

"Aye!" groaned Fergus from the ground and reaching up to wave a hand at them. "You have my blessing!"

"Our pleasure, your Majesties. It is not every day that a valiant warrior, and our _king_ no less, protects his Clan mates from an encounter with Mor'du and _survives!_ No doubt your tale will be retold to the farthest ends of the country!"

"I'll be sure of it!" the king winked.

The women nodded and curtsied once more. "We wish you a prosperous future, your Majesties. May that Mor'du be one day slain for his sinful crimes!"

Fergus promptly spit over his right shoulder (or at least did his best in his current position) as a sign for good luck. Although he didn't put any stock into magic and spells, the king was actually quite a superstitious man who would never shake his head at a chance of bettering his fortune. "You and everyone else can be sure o' that, ya hear? That black-hearted basturt can't evade _this_ king forever!"

Dipping their heads in respect one last time, the sisters eventually parted from the picnic clearing and vanished into the thick forest. An unusual three, they were. And each having names starting with the same letter. Elinor found herself oddly intrigued by this. But eventually, both she and her husband cocked their heads in the direction of the forest behind them again, hearing the familiar sound of horses trampling through the Highland grounds and the sound of wooden wheels being hauled behind it.

"Hoy! The cart has arrived, your Majesties!" called another DunBroch man running towards the puller of the cart.

"Oh, praise the spirits," Elinor exhaled, keeping her gaze focused on the oncoming carter for a while longer, before eventually turning downwards towards the red-haired king again. "Are you ready, dear?"

She was surprised to find Fergus' expression strangely stern and contemplative. He wasn't even looking at her. This confused and concerned the queen and she pressed, "Fergus, what else ails you?"

He eventually settled his blue gaze on her, brows still folded grimly to his crooked nose. Finally, he sighed and spoke, in a grave tone as he gently gripped her right shoulder. "Elinor, lass. I owe you the absolute truth. Because I love ya, with all my strength, and I couldn't bear to see you in so much pain over me e'er again."

Elinor's brows furrowed nervously. What could he possibly be getting at? What more could there be to scare her with? His aqua stare was too serious to be pulling one of his many jokes. "Fe-Fergus, w-what are you…?"

"I'm tryin' to tell ya, love…that I plan on hunting that demon again."

The queen's brown eyes widened in utter shock and her jaw dropped open rather unladylike. She dug her prim nails into the fabric of his shirt protectively. "Fergus, are you completely daft?! You wouldn't _dare_ go off after that monster – not after all this! Och, Fergus, darling, you're not well now. Whatever's come over you is surely because of shock, and-and…!"

"No, darlin', I _know_ what I'm sayin'! What I told those old lasses was the truth! That manky bear's head will soon enough, be mounted on mah wall! I won't rest until he's stuffed like a damned pheasant! _I swear it!_" Fergus challenged, taking her hands into his own. He could see that she was becoming tearful again. What he had just told her was a nightmare for her. He knew that. But his spirit could not be broken, and he figured the sooner he informed her of his plan, the less pain it would cause her in the future. "Elinor…" he then said more gently, once again placing his palm onto the side of her cheek to catch her attention. "When a man's pride gets as badly sounded as mine has…there's only one way to repair it. He has to conquer the lad that done it to him. You know that…"

Tears still threatening to spill over onto her face, Elinor replied hastily, "But Fergus, there's no tellin' what Mor'du could take from you next time! It could easily be your life – and where will that leave the Kingdom? What about Merida?" She paused, choking back a sob. "What about _me?_"

"Elinor, my love. I can _promise_ you this: I survived that kerfuffle because I was fightin' with something that Mor'du didn't, could _never_ have!" The female monarch eyed him curiously and intently. Fergus smirked and continued. "I had somethin' worth fightin' fer, dear. I was defendin' mah family. That was all the courage I needed to take on that brute, and make it out alive. And I know, that the next time – or the next _hundred_ times – I face 'im, that I'll not only be avenging mah missin' leg," he gestured to his stump. "But to make sure that my two precious lasses _never _have to fleg* that monster _ever_ again."

Elinor found her heart swelling with warm compassion at his last words. She let out one last sob before smiling lovingly down at him again, brown eyes still trying to cease their overflow of tears. Fergus was a true man, containing each of the various attributes that made one. She knew that the hunger for upholding his honor was one, and probably one of is strongest. But she also knew that Fergus understood well that a man had the responsibility of being both a husband _and _a father. It rang through him like the mighty roar of a lion. And that it always would…

"This…I _promise_ you, lass," Fergus repeated, running his fingers through her glossy, brown hair. He gave her one of his own charming grins, seeing that he had, at least, managed to make her smile, despite all that she had been told and experienced today.

The queen then immediately embraced her husband, clinging to him with fierce protectiveness. "I…I understand, Fergus," she finally admitted, sniffling in the process.

The king merely expressed his infinite gratitude by collecting her frame in his beefy arms and giving a tight squeeze back to her. He then quickly pecked her forehead before Elinor eventually released herself from him and briefly wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Just promise _me_ that you'll at least _heal _first before you go and do anything foolish, you thrawn loun*!"

Fergus roared with laughter, excited to see his beloved wife back to her normal, disciplined self. "It's s deal, mah darlin'! I won't so much as roll over in mah sleep unless you decide whether or not I'm fit enough!"

Elinor chuckled at this and lightly swatted the ginger-haired king's massive shoulder. Even with a missing leg, it wasn't enough to dampen his good humor and sense of fun. A wooden cart was wheeled up towards the couple, still huddling and conversing with another on the clearing ground. Fergus shifted his gaze towards the cart behind him, grinning his trademark smile, "I guess that's our ride then, aye? Thank the ancient kings! I'm itchin' to see my wee princess, already!"

Fergus brightened significantly at the thought of seeing his little daughter again, as he accepted the hands of a couple of his men to help stand him up on his one leg so he could get himself into the cart. Elinor merely cautiously observed him by his side, and when he finally rested himself and his aching stump inside the transport, Elinor rested her hands on his large shoulders from behind, and whispered into his ear, "That reminds me, dear. Errol told me that before you blacked out, there was a rather important message you wanted Lennox to give to Merida and I. What was that?"

Fergus scrunched his furry brows in concentration, trying to remember back. But he soon lifted them up again when it hit him, a light blush tinting his cheeks in the process. Elinor merely giggled, as Fergus chortled. "Aye, I wanted you and Merida to know that…that I was sorry I wouldn't be comin' home with bearskin coats for ya, fer the winter time…"

The queen merely hovered a hand in front of her lips and stifled another heartfelt chuckle. "Oh, my darling Fergus…" she sung as she leaned in closer to him from behind and planted an additional kiss on his rosy cheek. Words could not fully describe how she adored him so.

* * *

**Scottish terms/phrases translation: **

**_"hackit"_** = ugly, **_"basturt"_** = bastard, **_"loupin"_** = stinking/foul , **_"manky"_** = nasty, **_"cack"_** = shit, **_"wheesht"_** = shush up, **_"fleg"_** = fear, **_"thrawn"_** = stubborn, **_"loun"_** = boy/child

**So anyway, keep a look out for Chapter 4, it has some real parent/child goodness for you all! Reviews are always appreciated! :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**FINAL CHAPTER, HERE WE GO! :D Alright everybody, thank you all for following this story for as long as it has run. I truly appreciate all the wonderful feedback I have received and am glad to have entertained you with this humble, little "Brave" fanfic. I hope you all enjoy what I have prepared for you! XD**

* * *

Night had completely fallen by the time Elinor, Fergus, and their drove of many armed men arrived safely back at Castle DunBroch. By now, word of King Fergus' condition had spread throughout their home and to all of its inhabitants (little Merida made sure of that). Nervous and anxious chatter was everywhere constantly. It wasn't until Queen Elinor presented herself into her abode, slowly leading the men aiding Fergus (hobbling on one leg) to their bedchamber, that all hushed prattle was immediately silenced.

Instead, she decided to make them useful by ordering them to alert the castle apothecary (a senile, old lad) that his service was needed promptly, and to collect blankets and extra pillows for making the king's rehabilitation more comfortable. She also requested the cooks prepare a warm meal and a fresh tankard of ale for her husband, and a kettle of tea for herself.

But no one could mistake the fatigue on the queen's features – deep circles marking their way under the woman's eyes. And so it was decided amongst the maids, quietly, that they would inquire the apothecary if anything could be done to sooth the queen as well as the king.

As castle life suddenly bustled steadily, Elinor stood watchfully outside her bedroom, observing the hasty servants to make sure their jobs where going smoothly and efficiently. She turned her gaze back into the chamber and witnessed the ginger-haired king being cautiously led to his and her bed. Eventually, Fergus simply threw himself onto his side of the mattress, fully through with being handled like a frail babe. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at his boyish impulses and swiftly stood aside as both men and women entered and exited the royals' chamber, fulfilling more tasks.

But through all this, a realization came to the queen's mind. She even placed a hand to her forehead out of shock at her foolishness. Sure, she was dreadfully exhausted, but her duties were not over yet. She couldn't be merely standing at a doorframe when something else painfully important called her attention. _"How could I have forgotten?"_ she cursed herself. Elinor briefly cocked her head back to her husband, seeing that he was being attended to – maids laying down said blankets and pillows, as well as carting jugs full of different drinks to his side as he waited for his meal and other necessities. He seemed well enough to take charge of himself, and Elinor convinced herself that she would only be gone a moment from his side, anyhow. What she had to tend to would surely be of interest to the king as well.

Queen Elinor swept her violet skirts across the cobbled floor as she hastily reached her destination. Without even waiting to knock, she gently pushed open one of the double doors that lead to her daughter's bedroom. She was immediately met with still darkness, save for one lit and burning candle by the child's bedside. She stepped in softly, gathering the skirts to her dress once again, and walked instinctively towards the candle. Approaching it, the queen noticed the maid, Maudie, slumped asleep in the chair wedged between the nightstand and the bedside. Elinor brought a hand to her mouth, trying to suppress a light chuckle. It would have been improper and rather rude to find folly in such things.

Grasping her graceful hand around the loop to the brass candleholder, she lifted the dimming flame to her face and whispered, "Maudie..." Still, the maid did not stir.

A small kernel of irritation and extra fatigue was burying itself in the pit of the queen's stomach, nearing on the edge to becoming right-out frustration. "Maudie!" she uttered, louder and more forcefully. With an unladylike snort, the other woman instantly riled herself up from her light doze, blinking around in the dim darkness, confused and dazed, before settling her gaze upon the hazy, shadowed figure of the Queen of DunBroch. She was naturally a very skittish woman, and covered her hands over her mouth so as to silence her _"eep"_ of fear. She then tamed her voice into a cautious whisper.

"Oh, your Majesty, please forgive me! I-I was not informed of your arrival!"

The queen shook her head with a sigh, copying the same volume of speech, "That's quite alright, Maudie. It has been a very exhausting day for us all; as you well know. I only hope you were able to handle the princess in my absence?"

"Fairly well, your Grace," she informed, turning her bonnet covered head towards the contents of the large, comfortable looking bed they were both beside. Elinor hovered her candle further outwards and was able to make out the sleeping form of her little daughter nestled under her covers, her around, small face poking out from a mass of blankets and red hair. The bed was positively enormous for a girl of her stature - making her look even more like the wee babby Elinor remembered her to be, not too long ago.

"Although, the poor dear put up quite a few shenanigans trying to evade my watch. She asked for you constantly, m'Lady, and the king as well. Regrettably, I had to coax her through a number of teary spells. It was only a while ago that she got too exhausted waiting for you and the king that she promptly fell right asleep. I accommodated her by settling her into bed."

Elinor's heart wept for the girl as she merely watched her sleep, a part of it swelling with sympathy and regret as she imagined all of Maudie's retellings. Her sharp eyes caught the dismal reflection of dried tear trails along the wee lassie's freckled cheeks. The mother still felt terribly remorseful for this, even though the whole day had not gone _at all_ according to plan.

"Thank you, Maudie, for sitting by her until I called," added the queen. She knew this praise was unnecessary, as did the maid. But Elinor truly felt sorry enough for the woman and her poor daughter that she let it slip out of her mouth.

Maudie was thrown off by the monarch's words, but accepted them without protest, "Certainly, your Majesty."

"Please, go ahead and light the sconces about the chamber, would you?" Elinor ordered as she suddenly handed the candle to the woman.

Maudie out-right curtsied and left off to do her task in silence. Elinor wasted no time in following her own either. She sat herself on Merida's bedside and merely brushed aside a loose tendril of russet-colored hair while she waited for more lights to be lit around them. The mother leaned in close to the sleeping child and gently scooped her little frame into her warm arms. "Oh, my poor darling..." she cooed, sporting a concerned expression.

Upon more light flooding into the room and the distinct change of positioning, Merida's face scrunched as her bright, blue eyes slowly fluttered open. A grumble escaped her throat. She instinctively gripped the closest object to her hand, which just so happened to be the fabric to her mother's dress. She sensed the familiarity of the encompassing hold on her and the smell of the woman doing so.

"Mu-Mummy?" she questioned, shifting her groggily gaze upwards to catch a glimpse of the queen.

Elinor looked down on her with a tender smile and soothed, "Aye, It's me. I'm right here, sweetheart."

Merida's heart fluttered with joy, instantly nuzzling her face into her mother's chest and wrapping her arms around her elegant neck. "Mummy, you're back – just like you said you would!"

The queen eagerly welcomed back the feeling of her daughter's cling to her and hugged her tightly, resting her chin atop the child's fiery locks. A larger smile lay plastered on her features. "Of course, my wee bairn. I would never lie to you."

"I must have waited _a whole year_ for you to come home! And mean ol' Maudie wouldn't let me go find you, either!"

Said maid merely scowled to herself from across the room as she lit yet another sconce.

Elinor subsided a chuckle. "No dear, you mustn't be cross. Maudie was merely doing as I told her - keeping you safe while I handled everything. And I'm sorry if you were frightened by how long I was away."

Merida shook her head that was still pressed snuggly in her mother's chest. "Nuh uh, Mummy. I was brave, just like you told me to be! Honest."

Elinor flashed a knowing smile, but did not tarnish the small child's honor. Merida was exceedingly stubborn that way and the queen decided she wouldn't dare ruin this moment between them. "I know you were, Merida. I am very proud of you."

The little girl smiled, relishing in her mother's praise, when she instantly snapped into a new realization. She gasped as she removed her head from the embrace and looked anxiously into the queen's brown eyes. "Daddy! Daddy's back, right? You said you would! Is he alright? Where is he? Can I see him? I wanna see him - "

"There, there, Merida!" Elinor hushed amusedly. "Your father is just fine. He's here, at home, resting his leg right now. In fact, he's been asking about you! _'Where's mah wee darlin'? I want to see mah sweet Merida!'_" Elinor sported a humorously gruff expression as she mocked her husband's thick brogue, to which Merida giggled joyfully at. "Would you like to visit him too?"

The girl bobbed up and down in the queen's lap, excitedly, "Yes, Mummy! Yes! Right now!" Elinor merely raised her eyebrow at her daughter, expectantly. Merida humbly shrugged her shoulders when she understood what her mother wanted. _"…Please?" _

Elinor chuckled as she embraced the little girl, bringing herself onto her feet once more. "Aye, of course, darling." Merida simply clung enthusiastically to her mother and let the woman tenderly carry her to the doorframe. "Thank you again, Maudie, you may retire for the night," the queen apprised the maid behind her, who had now successfully lit each sconce. Elinor then returned to eye the child in her arms, "What do you say, Merida?"

The little princess scowled for a moment before deciding to just please her mother without argument, throwing on a happy smirk and simply informing her 'babysitter', "Thank you, Maudie!"

And with that the mother and daughter turned the corner out of the room and advanced down the hall.

* * *

Merida would have liked to remain unwaveringly enthralled at the chance of visiting her wounded father, after being so worried sick for him – but having just woken up from her sleep and the fact that it was late in the night – the princess couldn't help but grow the slightest bit drowsy. She felt comforted by the queen's arms carrying her gradually to the king's bedchamber, and the wee redhead happily pressed her face deeper into her mother's warm chest, still wanting more cuddles and comfort. Eventually she murmured, "I missed you, Mummy."

The queen smiled as she briefly snuggled her young daughter closer to her. "I know, sweetheart. I did too. But I'm here now. We're _both_ here now, safe and sound."

* * *

"Mighty fine food, Rosalyn – you always know what I fancy best!" praised Fergus as he tore into another leg of mutton. A huge platter of various spiced and seasoned meats was resting on his lap, while propped upwards in bed with numerous pillows.

The cook maid, Rosalyn – a pale, slim woman with green eyes and a mop of blond hair - chuckled as she refilled the king's tankard with more ale, "Why thank you, your Majesty. But it's no trouble serving a man whose palate is as wide as yers." Fergus accepted the offering into his free hand and merely nodded to her before she added, "I'll leave you be then, my King. You know how to reach us all if you'll be needin' anything."

"Aye, lass, I shall!" confirmed Fergus with a wave of his greasy hand. He then proceeded to take large gulps of ale as he watched her leave his bedchamber.

His ears perked suddenly at a harsh, cry, "DADDY!"

Immediately, he shifted his blue gaze upwards while still drinking from his tankard and was met with an identical pair to his own. He saw Elinor standing at the end of their bed, holding a flailing, giggling red-haired girl in her arms. Said princess was reaching her short arms out to him and giving her mother a tough time keeping her from falling right out of her grasp.

Fergus instantly choked on his ale and promptly spewed out the remainder of it in his mouth, off his right side. With a cough or two, he beamed with utter delight at the small child, who had been set on the bed by her mother, and was crawling her way up to her father.

"Merida!" he called, light eyes shining, teeth showing from underneath his mustache in an excited smile and holding his massive arms out to her. "Oh my wee darlin', come here you!"

"Daddy!" the little princess giggled again as she finally made it to his arms, leaping into them end letting the king embrace her in a loving hug. Fergus barely noticed his wife secretly setting his platter and tankard onto the nightstand beside him (which she also noticed at a kettle of tea waiting for her and poured herself a quick cup as she silently allowed her husband and her daughter to have their moment). He was too busy planting kisses on his daughter's head, to which she squealed at in delight.

"Oh, Merida – my bonny, wee lassie!" The king then lifted her up in the air with his hands, suspending her high above his head and looking up at her. "Yer mum was right, not so much as a scratch on you! Oh, just the way it should be!" He then lowered her into another embrace, her round face pressed protectively against his mighty chest and her little arms hardly close to wrapping around his entire width.

But soon, Fergus could feel her tiny fists clenching at his undershirt and kilt rather tightly (especially for one of her size) and grew curiously anxious by it. An overflow of emotions cascaded over the young redhead and within the instant she began sniffling with tears rushing once again to her light blue eyes. "Daddy, why did Mor'du have to hurt you like this? _We_ never did anything to _him!_ Why is he so mean?!"

Elinor had by then sat on her side of the bed beside the king, looking concerned at him and placing a gentle hand on his left arm. Fergus gave her the same look before huddling the little body closer to him, his ruddy complexion eventually squinting in pain at hearing his daughter cry. "Because, love, he is a demon. An evil demon who doenaet have a single nice bone in 'is body!"

Merida just let out another sob into her father's kilt, and Fergus planted another kiss onto the top of her fiery locks. "But don't you worry, darlin'. That monster's only hurt me little, because there's nothin' in the world that can 'afeat _yer_ father!"

Merida sniffled a little more and removed her flame-colored head from the embrace to look up into the king's kind, azure eyes. "R-Really?"

Fergus grinned affectionately down at her before jumping into his wild, story-telling mode. "Why of course! I taught that black-hearted creature a few good lessons he shan't forget in a hurry!"

Merida gasped in surprise and started bobbing up and down in an excitement that matched her father's. "What did you do, Daddy? What kinds of lessons?"

Elinor thought this was perhaps a good time to intervene. "Now, Merida, you've had _enough_ excitement for one day. Don't want you developing nightmares, now do we?"

The tiny princess' exuberant expression fell at her mother's words, finding it hard to hide her stubborn scowl from the queen as well. But as one of the king's large, beefy hand settled itself before the elegant woman, Merida was curious once more. "Oh, not to worry, Elinor. I can handle this. Our brave lassie can handle one, wee tale, can't she?"

Merida immediately brightened and Elinor still looked utterly uncertain. But Fergus flew into his retellings too quickly for her to stop him again.

"There we were, darlin' – just the two of us in that clearin'," the red-haired king began, hunching his shoulders, curling his thick fingers into claw-like positions, and looking his small daughter square in the eyes with his own twinkling gaze. "That maukit* beast was circlin' me on his massive paws – claws scrapin' at the dirt!" Fergus imitated with his pretend 'bear paws'. Merida's blue stare was growing wider with each dragged out word of her father's story. Fergus pretended to brandish a weapon in his now 'human' hand. "I had me trusty sword in hand as I gave the brute mah cold stare, right into his one good eye! His boggin* mouth was drippin' with foul saliva, and everywhere the drookit* stuff landed on the ground caused a fiery ember to sprout in its place…"

"Fergus…" Elinor warned in a hushed tone, looking nervously between her boisterous husband and her transfixed daughter.

But the lad hardly heard her and merely continued, "But right as he was about to strike, I raised mah sword into the air…and ya know that I did then, darlin'?"

"What, Daddy? Did you blind his other eye too?" Merida asked, still bobbing up and down in the king's lap.

"Nnnooo…" Fergus replied carefully with his hands still clamped around his imaginary sword and suspended above him in a readying attack. This only heightened his daughter's enthusiasm and before she could even begin to ask again, he swung his hands down and started tickling her unsuspecting belly, right under the fabric of her dress. "I struck my sword right for his underbelly and slashed it right open!"

Merida flew into uncontrollable fits of giggles and squeals, bowling over on the bed covers and cringing at her father's incessant tickling. "Daddy!" she cried repeatedly.

Elinor watched amusedly, bringing her fingers to her lips and subsiding a chuckle. _"Oh Fergus…"_ she thought. _"You haven't changed a bit."_

"The blood was pourin' out like a rapid river, coverin' the entire clearin' a dark red!" the king continued to mock. "Oh, how the beat writhed in pain!"

"Daddy! Daddy, stop! I'm not Mor'du!" the little redhead sputtered through her giggles. It was then that Fergus stopped and allowed his daughter a moment to catch her breath, before he collected her into his arms and held her close to his frame.

"That's right, Merida –- you're nothin' like Mor'du. You're mah bonnie, wee lassie; mah braw* treasure." He hugged her tightly and Merida did the same, nuzzling the man's prickly chin in utter adoration.

"Did you really do all those things, Daddy?"

"Aye, some of 'em and some of 'em not. But I'll tell you the _real_ story when yer older, and when it's not so passed yer bedtime!"

"Aye, it's true," the queen remarked calmly.

The princess merely pouted with a _'humph!'_ before then burying her round, freckled face into the fabric of her father's kilt that laced up his shoulder. He still smelled of warm grass and primrose petals, which soothed her greatly. She tried stifling a yawn, but failed miserably and was undeniably heard by both her observing parents. Fergus and Elinor cast glances to each other in adoration for their daughter's feeble but endearing attempts to keep herself awake for a little while longer.

With the king still holding her warmly to his shoulder, he heard the small girl mumble tiredly into his ear, "Daddy…promise you won't ever, _ever_ leave Mummy and me like that again…"

His heart softened, as did his friendly, azure eyes and he gently rubbed her back with one hand. "Oh, I promise, darlin'. I swear on my throne that neither you nor Mummy'll have anythin' to fear again. I will always be here fer you. Always."

And with that, the red-haired princess sighed pleasantly and drifted into a protected, assured sleep, still being supported by her father's strong arms. Her mother raised a graceful hand up to her face and gently brushed a stray tendril of curly, auburn hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "Sweet dreams, my brave, wee lassie," she cooed, before sitting forward and placing a loving kiss on her forehead.

"Aye," assured Fergus in a similar whisper, "Pleasant dreams…"

The queen resettled her gaze onto her husband and shot him an endearing smile. "Och, Fergus, you couthie* lad, you. Our little darlin' is so fortunate to have her strong, strapping father around to protect her." He reached up a hand and briefly cupped his fuzzy chin. "…and so am I."

The king blushed and grinned back, "Aye, but anything for my dears." His eyes grew heavy from both fatigue and lust as he leaned into his wife and kissed her delicately on the lips. But he pulled back quickly as he felt his little daughter suddenly squirm and grumble stubbornly in his grasp. Elinor noticed and was surprised too, and concluded with a tired sigh, "Well, best get this wee 'cub' back into bed, then."

She was prepared to reach up her arms to extract the curled up little girl before Fergus stopped her. "Oh Elinor, let's let her sleep with us tonight. Couldn't do us nay harm knowin' that she's sleeping extra safely here, right?"

The queen chuckled and concluded rather quickly, "Oh why not?" She quickly made a small space for the girl between the two of them, right where their two pillows met. Fergus then lowered his daughter gently into the spot where she curled up tighter into her little dress and lay nestled safely amidst her parent's bed.

Elinor then swiftly changed into her silk nightgown and eventually settled herself into bed beside her snoozing child and husband. Fergus blew out the candle on his nightstand (but not before sneaking an extra mouthful of mutton from his platter) and pulled the woolen covers over the three of them. Elinor made sure than Merida was tucked in snuggly and warm before she faced her king again. She could see his blue eyes still twinkling even in the darkness.

"How's yer leg, dear?" she questioned in a concerned whisper.

Fergus hardly needed a moment to contemplate. A boyish grin lay plastered under his russet-colored mustache. "Actually darlin', it hasn't ailed me for quite some time. I hardly feel a thing now."

Elinor beamed despite her heavily drowsing eyes. "Well bless the spirits," she quietly prayed.

The king chortled before reaching a loose arm towards her side and wrapping it protectively around both his wife and child – his queen and princess. "I think it was more the love of my two, precious lasses that did the trick."

The brown-haired woman's heart thumped extra loudly in her chest and she released one arm of hers from the blanket as well and stretched it out along her husband's –- almost as if adding a second protective barrier between her and her family. "Well then you shall be healed in no time at all, dear."

With their last and final whispers of love and "goodnight", the royal family of DunBroch finally settled down, together in one bed, for the night,; the night to an extensively exhausting, and utterly emotionally overwhelming day. King Fergus had told the truth: his missing leg had not pained him for some hours that night, and whether or not it truly was because of the love and concern of his family, he would always stand by it and claim that it really _was_.

Fergus' 'cripplement' would certainly wound his pride (at least for a while), but never his spirit. His heart was pure and strong, and as long as there were stories to tell and people who would listen, they would always remain that way. He would keep his promise of revenge on the dreaded animal, but it wouldn't be until the keen eye of Queen Elinor sought him absolutely fit to do so. She would have to learn the importance of keeping a kingdom well-balanced at all times while her dear husband went out/on one of his many trials of vengeance. And Princess Merida was aware that a few changes would certainly take hold of her familiar family life, but they would be new and exciting ones, and nothing would change _really_. Nothing substantial, at least. She had her whole life ahead of her to carve out her _own_ stories – perhaps even ones that would outmatch her father's most legendary of all.

* * *

**AND THAT'S IT, FOLKS! This is where I have decided to end it. On a nice, sweet note, if I do say so, myself. ^^ Anyway, thanks again to all who have made it this far. Continue to enjoy all that is "Brave"! :D *hugs for everyone* (_ppsssstt_, maybe keep an eye out for a "ParaNorman" fanfic too, in the near future!)**

**Scottish phrases/terms translation:**

***maukit** = dirty, ***boggin** = smelly; dirty, ***drookit** = drenched; pouring wet, ***couthie** = pleasant; sweet


End file.
